


I see your horizon

by howleht



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Justice League (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howleht/pseuds/howleht
Summary: How to Ask Out Clark Kent aka Superman in 3 Easy Steps: a Guide by Arthur Curry





	I see your horizon

 

Arthur Curry was not a dating kind of guy.

 

In fact he wasn’t much of a romantic at all. He can’t remember the last time he actively pursued someone because they usually came to him. Arthur isn’t an open book; people tended to go for him because of his looks which was okay. The less words exchanged the better. He also moves around a lot, with nothing (land-wise) holding him back. People could be a little too much to handle, and to Arthur, it’s easier to have quick flings with no real strings attached. He’s gone it that way for years, and he doesn’t plan on changing it.

 

Except for when he does.

 

Arthur liked being alone. However, this new team of theirs was quickly killing that attitude. These faces he planned on barely ever seeing again after Steppenwolf he was seeing at least once a week with a call from one of them going: _“Arthur, we need you,” “Arthur, we could use your help,” “Arthur, just to clarify, you can talk to fish? Okay because we need you too—”._ It was never ending, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. And neither were his teammates.

 

Victor and him started off on the wrong foot, but that didn’t last very long. Probably the imminent End of the World shit they went through that made them put aside petty drama. Diana knows what the hell she’s doing. Barry doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing but tries his best. They’re all good with him out on the field, and they work together smoothly. And then there’s Bruce who acts like it’s his job to be an asshole, but that’s fine because it gives Arthur an excuse to be one right back at him.

 

And then Clark—

 

Clark is the man he’d saved all those years ago without even thinking twice about it because he knew he was different like him. Not human, not Atlantean, but not a god either. Just a guy who’d let an oil rig crush him beneath the ocean to save some people. That’s who he is. Clark is the reason this team was even formed. He’s the man who gave the world hope, and the man who lit the spark within them to bring that hope back to the world. He’s the person who’s firm in his reason to do good, the person who stands his ground at league meetings, assertive and all himself. He’s the calm after the storm, the sun peaking through the clouds and _Arthur’s_ clouded mind, he’s—

 

Shit. He also happens to be Arthur’s crush.

 

Clark’s has a radiant touch, and Arthur feels the warmth when Clark brings his hand to rest on Arthur’s shoulder after an intense mission with the league. “You did good out there,” he says to him with one of his pure Clark Kent smiles. Arthur can’t help the feelings he gets in his chest as he thinks _I’m so goddamn screwed._

 

…

 

_I: Veneration_

 

Gotham is an absolute shithole. But at least it’s not cold.

 

Bruce texted them all two days prior about their next meeting being Saturday at ten tonight, so Arthur spent all day swimming in the Atlantic before finding himself in Gotham Harbor. For all that swimming though he was still early, and he wasn’t about to go sightseeing in Gotham. He shows up at the manor maybe half an hour before; he’s been here plenty of times for past meetings, but it never fails to stop him in his tracks to see how weathered it was, and not just with age. Bruce doesn’t speak about why it’s the way it is, and no one asks.

 

Arthur pushes open the doors of the Hall of Justice and sees Clark sitting in his seat but in civvies, glasses on, and with a laptop on the too-expensive table. He’s typing away at something and when he hears Arthur, he looks up and waves. “Hey,” he says.

 

Arthur sits in his chair which is at a diagonal angle from Clark’s with Vic’s chair separating them. He stays silent while tapping his finger against the table to dull his tenseness because even being near Clark makes his heart race.

 

And maybe Clark notices because he stops typing. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur says gruffly. “What are you working on?”

 

Clark pushes up his glasses. “Article for the Planet. I have to have it done by tonight.”

 

“Why not finish it up there?”

 

“The Planet’s...pretty busy all hours of the day. It gets loud, and you get used to it after a while but sometimes it’s too much. I like the quiet and thought I might as well come here to finish.” It was quiet here, the only sounds came from their shuffling and the wind blowing against old curtains.

 

“Want me to be quiet?”

 

Clark’s smile was soft. “No,” he says simply.

 

Butterflies. They were everywhere in his stomach. “What are you writing about?”

 

“Protests at MU.”

 

“Students?”

 

“Yes. Perry assigned it to me, and it’s kinda funny because the protests are about me.”

 

“There’s still people on your case.”

 

Clark shrugged. “There never won’t be, but I should’ve clarified that they were in favor of me and against the new policies about to be enforced on immigration.”

 

“Oh right, that asshole.”

 

Clark types some more. “Tell me about it.” Clark hunches forwards to continue and then after a couple minutes he closes his laptop and takes off his classes, leaning as far back as he can in his chair. “Done.”

 

Arthur watches him as he relaxes, popping his fingers and stretching. “You like writing?”

 

Clark sits straight and watches the table. “Yeah, I mean. I wouldn’t work at the paper if I didn’t, but it’s when I get assigned to write about the stuff that ends up on page ten that discourages me a bit. Sports and celebrity news don’t do anything for me.”

 

Arthur nods. Clark definitely seemed like the kind of guy who liked putting thought into what he did, someone who put their heart into their work. He respected Clark just an ounce more (not that he didn’t already). “You like to write about change.”

 

“Of course. And like to produce it. It’s better for me to write about what I believe in and about things that help less fortunate people. Most times I can’t though. I may not be worried about pissing off the corporate heads that loom over us but my boss is.”

 

“Don’t say that too loud, Bruce might hear you.”

 

That makes Clark laugh, and all Arthur can think is _I made him laugh._ Clark’s eyes meet his and they’re relaxed, fond. He rests his head in his hand while that elbow relaxes against the surface of the table. He has a resting smile on his face. He’s never...looked at Arthur like this and he can’t find any words to break the silence. So he clears his throat and brings his hand onto the table, unintentionally reaching out, but he’s glad Clark doesn’t notice. “Tell you what, I’ll pull up some of your stuff tonight and tell you if it makes me wanna change the world.”

 

Clark looks down, eyelashes dark and beautiful against golden skin, but still keeping that same smile. “Sounds good to me.”

 

…

 

And that’s exactly what Arthur does. After the meeting, he finds a diner open late and reads through Clark’s work from before and then after his resurrection.

 

 _I’m no expert,_ he texts Clark in the morning, _but you know how to open people’s eyes to things._

 

 _I try,_ Clark texts back.

 

Five minutes later, _I’m really glad you like it._

 

…

 

  
  
_II. Pursue_

 

_(with stuff)_

 

Arthur is waiting in an elevator of The Daily Planet, Panera bag and soft drink in hand ready to bring to Clark. Even though it was the middle of the day, the elevator was jam packed and he definitely stood out height-wise, and he didn’t think to wear anything other than a casual leather jacket and jeans. And when the elevator dinged everyone let him leave first.

 

Clark wasn’t lying about the craziness of the Planet. People were rushing from one side of the floor to another, phones were ringing in every other direction, and the chatter was non-stop. And it wasn’t until he reached Clark’s desk that people nearby stopped what they were doing to watch him.

 

Clark’s mind looked buried deep into whatever he was typing when Arthur put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he says, and sets the bag down.

 

Clark’s face lights up. “Arthur, hi,” he says. “You brought me lunch?”

 

“Yeah, I was around, thought I might as well drop by.” That was a lie, he planned this last week.

 

“Thanks, but my break’s in a few, maybe we could head out and get something together?”

 

Together. Arthur wants to say _sure, yeah, it’s up to you, whatever you want_ , but finds himself sliding his hands into his pocket and fighting to say _no_ because he’s working up to even asking him out and he doesn’t want _that_ to basically be their first date and Arthur didn’t expect this so he settles with, “Sorry, I got some...stuff to do.”

 

 “Like what?”

 

“Ah, like ocean...stuff.” Clark laughs and it radiates everywhere inside of Arthur like he’s heard no better sound in the world.

 

“Okay Mister Vague, I’ll let you go to do your king duties.” He said it quiet enough for only the two of them, but Clark mentioning it had him check around the office and practically this whole side was watching the two of them.

 

“I’m technically not king yet,” Arthur says not matter-of-factly.

 

“I know, I’m just messing with you.” Clark takes out his sandwich from the bag and lets out an alleviated sigh. “God, thanks so much again. I really needed you today, I have so many deadlines right now, I’m swamped.”

 

“It’s no problem,” he says. Then, “I’ll let you get back to work.” He moves to leave, but then Clark gently takes hold of his wrist.

 

“Talk to you later?” He asks.

 

“Yeah.” When he does actually leave, he turns back to see three people surrounding him; Lois being one of them, and a blonde practically cornering him, looking from Clark to Arthur, and no doubt asking about him.

 

Arthur lets himself laugh about it once he’s out of the building.

 

…

 

The batcave is dark and desolate. Everything Bruce Wayne is in his purest form.

 

He has Arthur here because of a text he’d sent him ( _Cave tonight. 10_.) and asked—well really told him to analyze his monitors for any disrupting activity happening in the Atlantic where Bruce is getting his data from. He’s been standing here for ten minutes, not speaking to Bruce as he types away on a separate monitor. And then he thinks he’s already here so he might as well ask.

 

“Hey, Clark’s birthday is coming up.”

 

Bruce goes on typing. “I’m aware.”

 

“Do you know what his favorite kind of flowers are?”

 

That’s when Bruce stops typing entirely to turn and look up at Arthur. He’s seeking a reason and Arthur just gestures into thin air like he’s waiting.

 

“Sunflowers, why,” Bruce says blankly.

 

“Because you practically know everything about him.”

 

“I know everything about all of you.”

 

Of course he does. Arthur doesn’t even act surprised. “‘Course you do.”

 

They don’t speak more on it the remainder of the time, and nothing too interesting happens that needs Arthur’s attention. “You can go,” Bruce says.

 

Finally. He uncrosses his arms and heads towards the elevator.

 

“Arthur.”

 

Jesus Christ. He turns around and Bruce is still sitting but is facing towards him. “What?”

 

“If you and Clark are seeing each other, I need to know. You’re both valuable teammates and we can’t afford distractions.”

 

Arthur nearly laughed out loud. As if Clark isn’t a co-leader himself alongside Bruce and Diana. And as if it’s any of _Bruce’s_ fucking business. “Don’t count on it, Batman,” he says and continues towards the elevator.

 

…

 

He gets a text from Clark in the middle of the day.

 

 _You did NOT,_ he sends with a picture of a vase filled with sunflowers and a card that said ‘ _Heard you like these best. Happy birthday. — AC’_

 

Clark texts again, _did you go all the way to Kansas for these???_

 

 _I did,_ he texts back. He lets himself smile.

 

_You’re the best._

 

_…_

 

_III. Doing the asking_

 

He’s leaning against a railing in the hangar while he waits; the rest of the league isn’t here yet besides him, Bruce, and Clark, and the latter two are on the opposite side of the room from him. Bruce called them all here so they could leave in the Fox together to stop a threat to a community in Gotham, lots of lives at stake, too hazardous for any of them to enter alone, y’know the usual gig.

 

The two of them part ways and Arthur watches Clark make his way over to him. Despite the mission they’re about to go on, Clark doesn’t look troubled. He smiles once he makes eye contact with Arthur and runs a hand briefly through his hair. He looks sweet and golden, like a sky at dawn.

 

“You good?” Clark asks. He leans against the railing beside Arthur. He relaxes too, lets himself slouch and be even less taller than Arthur. That was an ongoing joke with the league, how Clark was only the fourth tallest person there despite being the most physically intimidating to their adversaries. Clark would shrug them off with a laugh, the kind that made his eyes crinkle in the corners. Arthur wonders distantly if Clark would need to stand on his toes to kiss him. Christ, he hasn’t even asked him out yet and he’s already thinking about—

 

“Am now,” Arthur says with ease, as if he’s not calculating every move he makes when he uncrosses his arms to rest his hand on the railing in between them, mere inches from Clark’s.

 

“I brighten your day or something?”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur says. “You’re not exactly the unfriendly type.”

 

“Mhm.” Unintentionally or not, Clark’s hand slides so it’s barely touching Arthur’s. A few seconds pass with the contact between them, neither making a move. And Arthur thinks, he’s already got him right here. Might as well.

 

“You’re also,” Arthur begins, playing this off as casually as he can because he can’t deny his nervousness. “Very insightful.” Clark doesn’t look at him but his turns his head to perk an ear. “You stand up for what you believe in. I can count on you out on the field, more than anyone else.” He’s surprised he’s not sitting on Diana’s lasso right now. “And you’re easy on the eyes.”

 

Clark full on smiles, raises both his eyebrows as he looks at Arthur with a hint of wonder in his eyes. “Oh?”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur says. Goddamn if Clark didn’t mercilessly look beautiful. He pauses, stares at his feet. “Clark. After all this, do you wanna—”

 

“Hey.” Bruce rounds the corner, cowl in hand. “We’re leaving.” He turns back around while sliding the cowl on.

 

Clark pushes off from the railing, the contact between their hands gone, but he’s still smiling at him. “We’ll talk after.” And then he’s turning to go.

 

Arthur lets himself smile, then he follows Clark.

 

…

 

Arthur hears the whoosh of a cape and boots hitting gravel before he sees him. “There’s one here.” The bomb is hiding in the building, since been evacuated, but they can’t predict the blast radius or the damage. The other five were disarmed with Bruce’s instructions, but he only just brought up this one because of his scanners’ delay in receiving it. Something was different about it.

 

“I can take care of it. It’s going to be on a timer, you should think of getting clear of here, Arthur.”

 

“I was here first. I’ll go with you.”

 

They were instructed to head to the third floor, and they end up in a dimly lit room with nothing but metal walls and floors. “It’s in the floor,” Clark says standing with his head bowed to a panel he’s standing on. “But I…” He sounds breathless.

 

Arthur takes a cautious step towards him. “Superman?”

 

“I can get to it, I just—” He brings his fist up, then collides it with the metal flooring. It dents. Clark makes an aching sound and falls to his knees. Arthur is there immediately, a hand on Clark’s back to steady him.

 

 _“What’s going on,”_ Bruce’s modulated voice enters in their coms.

 

“Bruce, what’s wrong with me.” Clark’s fist shakes. Arthur grabs it. “Arthur _go.”_

 

“Not a chance. Bruce something’s wrong with him, he’s weak.”

 

Bruce is silent over the coms, then, _“I have a bug there. Scanning.”_ His voice wasn’t the same it was a second ago.

 

“Arthur,” Clark’s voice sounds strained and he shakes under Arthur’s hands. “It’s about to go, it’s about to fucking go, you need to leave.”

 

Before Arthur can think of saying _not without you,_ Bruce’s voice booms, _“Clark, it’s a kryptonite bomb, get the hell out of there—”_

 

Not a second goes by and Clark is mustering up all his strength to take hold of Arthur and cover him with his entire body while moving fast as he can out of the room. He hears the explosion and feels the blast push them forward until he can’t see or feel anything anymore except Clark’s hands and a red cape engulfing his vision.

 

 

…

 

“Clark,” he says as soon as he wakes up.

 

“Shh.” Diana’s voice.

 

“Clark.”

 

“He’s okay. Rest.”

 

…

  
  


“They put you under sunlamps and now you’re all good?” Arthur asks from his spot by the bed in the medbay.

 

“Heh. That’s the abridged version.” Clark raises onto his elbows, eyes the heavy bandages on Arthur’s shoulders. “You turn out okay?”

 

Arthur shrugs. “Mostly.” He was completely fine with how he turned out. He didn’t die and more importantly, neither did Clark.

 

Clark frowns, shakes his head. “You should’ve left, Arthur, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

 

“I wasn’t going to leave you there,” Arthur expresses bluntly, like it was the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. “I didn’t know what was wrong with you or if you could've died. I couldn’t risk that, and I still can’t. So stop sitting there, looking at me like I’m a sick puppy when I didn’t even get the brunt of that fucking bomb, you did.”

 

“Arthur—”

 

“No, I get it. You have to make tough choices here, but for you it wasn't difficult. I would've done it for anyone else on the team, but I didn’t have to think about it with you. I never will. I care about you too much. So go around spouting that shit to the rest of the league because it won’t work with me.” Maybe that was a little much because Clark is just staring at him wordlessly. He gets up to leave.

 

“Arthur.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Just ask me out already,” Clark says wearily but not without his smile slowly gaining.

 

And Arthur can’t help but lean down and kiss him.

 

Clark tastes sweet, like sunlight and rain. His skin is soft against Arthur’s fingers where he runs them from the back of his neck into his hair. He pulls away to actually ask the question against Clark’s lips.

 

“Thought you’d never ask,” he replied.

 

...

  


**Author's Note:**

> welp how cliché of me but i'd die for them
> 
> yay or nay


End file.
